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As thankful as I am for the owner of Baxter's Bakery for letting us hunker down there last week, I'm happy to be home again. Already I've slept for like two days straight.

I've been dreaming and I don't care for them very much. At least one things clear: I'm a marine (I think) in that life too. Hopefully a better one.

Okay then, let's give this a try. Hello California.

Gotta say, not really digging the sea salt thing. Like my hair needed further assistance to not do what I wanted. I'm hating this move already.

Speaking of moves, I'm Carol, fresh off the... well plane actually, but whatever. The aim is to avoid my apartment as long as possible and hope the movers do all the work for me. Which means feigning work until then.

So, public interest inquiry, I'm looking for locally run businesses or companies that support and are supported by the area. Any pointers?

Sometimes I question the decisions of the adults. Emma Frost was probably right.

I thought my dreams were over, but, at the very least, I'm still getting gifts from them. The rest of my armor is here. I'm like a proper knight now. I guess I'll have to find somewhere to display it. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing you bury in the back of a closet.

On a scale of one to not funny, finding the fucking rig parked in front of my apartment is definitely not funny. She drives pretty well though.

And my damned dream prosthetic was hanging off the door.

I just realized I may go on Buzzfeed too much. Thank god I don't have the app or I'd never get anything done.

Anyway. In which Claire shares another article but it's less depressing than the story of neglected young girls in the Playboy mansion.

I met a nice guy in my dreams last night. A photographer, kind of shy-ish. His name was Matt. Knowing my dreams he'll probably turn out to be a dragon or some other supernatural creature. Nothing is ever as it seems in my dreams.

So I woke up from another dream.

Apparently I'm a fracking computer genius now.